


this is the road to ruin (and it started at the end)

by pitchblackkoi



Series: i will follow you into the dark [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Creepy Mannequins, Canon-Typical Jon Getting Kidnapped, M/M, Mental Link, Some light and very strange torture(?), Web!Martin, canon is weird folks and that reflects in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-27 01:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18728476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitchblackkoi/pseuds/pitchblackkoi
Summary: Jon gets kidnapped, so Martin decides that if Elias won't do anything about it, he has to. So he gathers a team together and tries to find Jon, all while trying to deal with the fact that the man who has just become his husband has been kidnapped. Meanwhile Jon is stuck under the care of Nikola Orsinov, who wants to use his skin in the ritual for the Unknowing. Something about their strange marriage links them, though, and they may be able to find each other much easier than they thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set after "at the expense of the death of a bachelor" so if you haven't read that, you should probably read that one first or some of this won't make sense. As always, the entire thing is already finished and I will be posting the chapters a few days apart like I did for the last one. There are a few things that may be uncomfortable for some people, so I will let you all know at the beginning of the chapter what to expect if there's anything like that in it.

It starts out as just a feeling. Well,  _ just  _ a feeling downplays it a bit. It feels like Martin is being hit by a truckload of shock and fear and anger. It is loud and overwhelming, to the point where he has to stop what he is doing and rub the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He can still shrug that off though. He knows that he is an anxious person and he will often get panicky for seemingly no reason. He is no stranger to panic attacks, especially these days. Things are stressful and terrifying, though he will admit that things have been better now that he knows that he can depend on Jon. 

But even with Jon things haven’t been perfect. For one they had been forced into the creepiest arranged marriage possible, complete with occult looking tattoos that hurt like hell to get (that healed quicker than they should have and now stand out in a raised almost-black color between their shoulder blades). Lately Jon has not been spending as much time in the Archives, disappearing for hours at a time to go off who knows where. He tries to message Martin to let him know not to wait up or when he will be back, but Jon has always been bad at remembering anything other than whatever he is currently working on. 

This is all to explain why Martin did not immediately notice that something was wrong. It took him a few days because he is so used to bad feelings being his brain overreacting to something small or just lying to him. There is no ignoring it when he realizes he has not seen Jon for a few days and checks in his room to see that his bed looks untouched. 

So he does the only thing that he can think of to do in this situation. He goes to yell at Elias.

Martin opens the door without knocking, body thrumming with fear and anxiety. “Where is Jon?” he demands, striding into the room without even looking back to close the door.

Elias looks up from his computer and sighs as if Martin is just a  _ massive _ inconvenience to him. “He has been kidnapped by agents of the Stranger,” he says, facial expression not changing.

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” he shouts back.

“I figured that either you wouldn’t know and I would have at least saved both of us a headache or you would know and I would have no choice but to deal with it,” Elias replies diplomatically.

“Of course I was going to notice! I live with him!” 

At this point Martin is shaking with rage, stifling the urge to surge across the room and strangle the man. The amused tilt to Elias’s lips tells Martin that he knows that all too well and also knows that Martin is not about to do anything about it.

He stops and breathes in deeply, trying to steady himself. “Do you at least have a plan to get him out?” he asks, holding onto the last thread of his patience. 

“No,” Elias replies, not looking concerned in the least. 

That snaps the last thread. “So what you’re telling me is that Jon has been  _ kidnapped _ and you have absolutely  _ no plan  _ to get him back?” Martin shouts, angrier than he has ever been in his entire life. Elias begins to open his mouth and Martin doesn’t even let him start speaking. “No, if you’ve decided to be of absolutely no use when my  _ husband _ has been  _ kidnapped  _ I don’t care what you have to say.”

Elias grins at that, wide and shark-like. “It isn’t as if the two of you are actually  _ together _ ,” he taunts. 

Martin is in such a state that he can only sigh and roll his eyes. **“** I’d rather not have the man who arranged my marriage comment on my relationship, actually.”

He merely shrugs in response, a smirk still tilting his lips. 

“Well, if you’re not going to be helpful, I guess I’m done here,” Martin says, walking straight out of the office without another word. He doesn’t shut the door behind him as he marches back to the Archives. 

So he has had his suspicions confirmed, but he is still back to square one. Jon is still gone, he still doesn’t know where he is, and he still has no plan to get him back. He starts fiddling anxiously with his ring, smoothing his finger over the center stone in a calming fashion, when he runs straight into Basira.

“Oh, sorry!” he says, stepping back again.

Basira shakes her head and adjusts the books in her arms. “No, it’s okay. I didn’t see you either,” she assures him, then pauses and looks at his face more closely. “Are you alright?”

He hunches in on himself and starts messing with the ring again. “No, actually. Jon’s been kidnapped.”

“He  _ what _ ?” she says, blinking at him.

“He was kidnapped,” Martin confirms. “I just got back from talking to Elias, who has absolutely no plan to get him back.”

“So Elias is, what, going to just leave him?” she asks.

“I guess,” he answers miserably. “He didn’t even tell me where Jon was, and even if he does know I doubt he would tell me. I don’t even know where to start.”

Basira looks at the ceiling, thinking. “I mean the only thing to do would be to start investigating. We should find out what he’s been looking into recently, that’ll probably give us the best idea of why it happened at least.” She looks as if she is already making a mental list of things that she needs to do. “I’ll talk to Melanie about it. Daisy, too, though I can’t promise how much she’ll help. I’d talk to Tim, but he hasn’t exactly been around recently. We’ll have to make do with who we can get to help.”

Martin nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. I think I’ll call Georgie, too. She would at least want to know what’s going on if Jon’s gone missing.”

She looks a little taken aback at that. “Melanie mentioned her, but I didn’t know that she knew about,” she trails off, gesturing vaguely to the Archives.

“Yeah, she knows,” he confirms. “Though I don’t know if she found out from Jon or if she saw something. I didn’t really ask.”

“Well, it’ll at least be helpful to have someone else,” Basira mumbles to herself. 

“I’ll go call her right now,” he says, digging out his phone. “I’ll head up and make the call and come talk to you when I’m done.”

She just nods silently and walks further into the Archives. 

Martin sighs and tightens his grip on his phone, heading upstairs and out of the building at a brisk pace. This is insane. They have only just gotten Jon back after he was in hiding and now he’s been kidnapped. He seems to always be getting himself into trouble these days, what with the way he came back with more scars than he left with, but this really takes the cake. 

He leans against the brickwork of the building and starts calling Georgie. He taps nervously on his arm as the phone rings a few times before it’s picked up. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Georgie,” Martin greets, feeling as if he is going to crawl out of his own skin. 

“It’s some sort of emergency, isn’t it?” she asks knowingly. 

“How’d you know?” he says with a nervous little laugh that indicates no humor. 

“Well, you rarely even text me, for one,” Georgie answers. “And then there’s the fact that you work at a really creepy institution and are married to Jon, who excels at getting himself into trouble. So what did he do?”

“It’s not so much what he did as what happened to him,” he replies. “There’s no easy way to say this. Jon’s been kidnapped.”

There is a beat of silence on the other end before she finally says “I’ve got to say, that’s pretty dramatic even for him.”

Martin actually laughs at that, though a little hysterically. “That’s kind of what I thought, too,” he admits. “Our boss knew but didn’t tell us and now he won’t tell me anything that he knows about what happened. We’re going to see what we can do to find him here and I figured that you’d want to be in the loop.”

“I do, though I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” she says, thinking. “If you want to do your research and stuff somewhere that’s not the Archives, you could do it at my place.”

“That would be nice but only if you’re sure-“ he starts. 

“I’m sure, Martin,” Georgie tells him definitively. “I’ll start a group chat with you and Melanie and we can start planning some things out, alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” he mumbles into the phone. “Thanks for this.”

“It’s no problem. I worry about him, too,” she assures him. “Just take care of yourself. You can’t help him if you worry yourself to death.”

“Will do,” he says, knowing that he will probably do exactly that anyways. “Bye, Georgie.”

“Bye, Martin.”

He hangs up and let’s out a deep breath. Well, this isn't much, but it is a start. He just has to hope that all of them together can figure out where Jon is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to ask me any questions or talk to me about anything you can find me at pitchblackkoi on both tumblr and twitter. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so this is that warning I talked about. So here's the thing. There isn't an easy way to categorize this trigger warning. The only thing I can say is there's a scene where Jon is forcibly moisturized and feels the beginning stages of a panic attack. If that is going to be uncomfortable for you (and I would not blame you, I kinda made myself uncomfortable writing it) stop at "Nikola starts unbuttoning his shirt" and pick back up at "The mannequins holding his arms." I will let you know any important info at the end of the chapter.

Jon is stuck in the basement of a frankly very bad wax museum, tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth. It is damp and cold and full of wax figures that are not scary so much as they look like characters in a badly rendered video game. He is frustrated but not entirely surprised by this turn of events.

Things had been going too well recently, he supposes. After he and Martin had healed from the pain of the tattoos carved into their backs, things had been alright. Jon had forgotten how nice it is to have someone to come home to, someone that actually cared about how his day was and made sure he took care of himself. He hadn’t had that since he and Georgie broke up and hadn’t realized how much he had missed it. 

Not that he has any of that here, or will have it in the future considering it seems like Nikola Orsinov and her lot plan on killing him and making him into a skin suit. Or that is what it sounds like, at the very least. She wasn’t entirely clear on that front, though that may be entirely by design. A tactic to scare him. He doesn’t want to admit that it’s working but, well, an awful supernatural mannequin threatening to skin you alive  _ is  _ scary.

Nikola herself is, well, a  _ lot _ . She flounces around, moving in a way that people very much do not, sounding chipper and talking excitedly about her future plans. She had congratulated him on his marriage, weirdly. Though, it had taken a turn from “kind of odd but harmless” to “oh God, what have I done” very quickly when she had remarked that “It made us really want to change our minds about what we were using for the ritual when we heard about it! I mean, imagine the kind of power we can use with something representing both the Eye and the Web!” It figures that something Elias had assured him was the best move and would protect him in the long run would actually end up putting him in danger.

All of that leaves Jon in this basement, alone and surrounded by things that look almost like people but definitely aren’t, all while tied to a chair. The ropes are tight enough that he can barely move but not tight enough to cut off circulation. The gag in his mouth is uncomfortable, the fabric rubbing irritatingly at the corners of his mouth. He at least has his glasses perched at the end of his nose, courtesy of one of the mannequins, but they are smudged and he can’t push them up. 

Or, he was alone for what feels like hours until Nikola renters the space. With her comes the distinct smell of plastic and blood. She is a plain white mannequin with a body and limbs that are longer than they rightfully should be, dressed in a full ringmasters outfit complete with a whip at her belt. There are bloodstains on her clothes and hands. Some of them look new, not quite the brown of dried blood (though there are old dried bloodstains as well).

“Hello, Archivist!” she greets cheerily, sounding like she is smiling even though she has no face or mouth to smile with. 

Jon grunts in response, peering at her blurry form over the edge of his glasses. Her unfocused form almost doesn’t look completely wrong and alien. Almost. 

“I was being honest about your skin, you know,” Nikola says conversationally, taking large strides towards him. She lifts a hand to show that she has lotion clutched in it. “You need to take better care of it, especially after getting all of those scars. It’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?”

He is about to grunt that he really doesn’t think so when two mannequin figures round him on either side, untying the ropes quickly and grabbing each of his arms tightly, just this side of bruising. He tries moving them and the hands just tighten around his wrists. He is trapped. 

Nikola starts unbuttoning his shirt, seemingly oblivious to the way he is stiffening up. “I took the liberty of getting lotion with cocoa butter in it. It’s good for scars, you know, and you have so many!” 

She pushes the shirt off of his shoulders, her cold plastic hands brushing his skin and making him even more tense as a result. She squeezes some of the moisturizer into her hand and starts rubbing it into his skin carefully. He feels violated and she is standing so close the scent of blood-and-plastic is even more present so he squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to separate himself from this moment. 

She clucks her tongue when she gets to his left hand. “A run in with the Lightless Flame, I see. And you didn’t even take care of the burn! We’ll have to see what we can do about the damage you’ve done, won’t we?” Nikola says, sounding bright as ever. 

When she makes it to his back, Jon can feel her tracing the tattoo that lies between his shoulder blades. She is speaking, but he cannot hear her over the full force of alien anxiety that is hitting him. 

Jon has felt anxious, of course he has. He made it through university, after all, and you can’t do that without a panic attack or two on bad days. But somehow this does not feel like  _ his _ anxiety. It feels like someone else’s worry is filling his chest, quickening his breathing and making his chest too tight. 

He tries to ride it out and slowly calm down, but it feels like a steady level that is not changing. He squeezes his hands so tight that the too long nails begin to dig into the flesh of his palms. 

When the feeling finally dies down Nikola is done, righting his clothes and telling him in a cheery voice, “That’s all for today, Archivist! You were very compliant, I’ll have to have someone come bring you food and water. When they take the gag out don’t you try to compel them or I’ll have to do something really awful!” She lightly pokes the tip on his nose before turning around and leaving. 

The mannequins holding his arms use a zip tie to keep his hands behind his back and exit the basement, leaving him alone again. 

The anxiety has left, gone all at once, and he is reeling from that and the fact that he has been forcibly moisturized. He is suddenly reminded of  _ Silence of the Lambs _ , the phrase “it puts the lotion on it’s skin” ringing in his head. If Nikola meant to get under his skin (no pun intended), it’s worked.

Jon stretches out his left hand, trying to get a feel for how it is doing. It is pretty much healed and scarred over at this point, though he does get twinges of nerve pain. Mostly the feeling in that hand is just muffled. He supposes the combination of scar tissue and probable nerve damage did that. He did shake hands with what was essentially boiling wax. He is lucky he taught himself to write ambidextrously as a child.

More footsteps come down the stairs and there are two mannequins with a bottle of water and a tray with a plate of beans on toast in the center. He is honestly surprised it isn’t something weirder, but he is grateful. 

The mannequins set the tray and bottle down before undoing the zip tie around his wrists and tugging the gag down. They step back and he stays silent while he kneels down to eat his food. He has no plan to escape so there is no use making a fuss. 

He opens the water bottle and slowly begins to drink. He stops a third of the way through, knowing that drinking too much at once would be bad. He scoops up the toast as best he can and takes a bite. The beans are lukewarm and the bread tastes mostly stale. It is not a pleasant experience, though he doesn’t know what he expected. He finishes his meal and his water slowly, careful not to scarf it down and hurt his stomach. 

When Jon finishes the mannequins standing guard slide him back into the chair, zip tie his hands behind his back again, and shove the gag into his mouth. They then proceed to pick up the tray and them empty water bottle and leave the way they came. He is honestly unsure if they physically cannot talk or just chose not to speak to him. He isn’t sure which would be more unsettling.

He closes his eyes briefly and sighs heavily through his nose. This is bad and is only going to get worse with time. He has no guarantee of a rescue and will surely die if he is just left to fend for himself. There is not a scenario where he gets out by himself.

Jon opens his eyes and resigns himself to several more hours of sitting in this dark room by himself with nothing to do. He is genuinely not sure if that is worse than having to listen to Nikola Orsinov talk. 

As he ponders this he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns to see a single brown daddy long-legs spider on the torso of a nearby wax figure. He is surprised to find that for the first time since he was eight years old the sight of a spider doesn’t make him afraid. It weirdly comforts him. Reminds him of Martin.

Jon finds that he actually  _ misses  _ Martin. There was a time in his life when he would have scoffed at the idea of missing him, but in recent weeks he has come to depend on the man. He didn’t ever really hate him either, it was just easier to take the frustrations of his job out on one person. He regrets it now, of course. Martin has never shown him anything but kindness.

Of course, that kindness cannot reach him here. He hopes that Martin is looking for him. That he has noticed Jon’s absence. Even if he hasn’t, Jon wants to get out of here so that he can go home to the flat they share and let Martin make him a cup of tea. 

He lets that thought send him into an exhausted sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon feels an anxiety that he notes did not feel like his own that causes him to go into the beginning stages of a panic attack before it leaves all at once.  
> as always you can talk to me at pitchblackkoi on tumblr and twitter. your comments really do keep me going!


	3. Chapter 3

They all agree to meet at Georgie’s on Saturday. Daisy unsurprisingly refused to come, though Basira says that she does help when she asks. Everyone has been doing research this week to try to put some things together to start drawing conclusions and come up with some sort of plan. 

Martin has arrived at Georgie’s early because otherwise he would just be pacing around the too empty flat and making himself an anxious mess. So he’s sitting on her sofa and petting her cat (a big, fat orange one named the Admiral) while she makes him a cup of tea in the kitchen. He has to admit that having a cat purring in his lap and being in Georgie’s calm presence is helping his underlying anxiety. 

She reenters the room and sets a mug on the coffee table in front of Martin before curling up in a chair with her own, sipping the tea quietly. 

“Thanks,” he tells her gratefully, taking a sip of his own to calm his nerves. It really is amazing what just a cup of tea can do. 

Georgie just nods quietly at him and asks “So how are you doing?”

He shrugs and stares into the mug. “As well as can be expected, I guess?” A raised eyebrow makes him continue. “I’m worried all the time and I feel like I should be  _ doing _ something, but there isn’t really much for me  _ to _ do at this point. I try to do research but a lot of it isn’t really going anywhere so I just sort of spiral?”

He pauses and lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t know, sometimes I feel like it’s not really my place to be worried. Like, sure, we’re married, but it isn’t as if we’re together in any real sense. We just live together mostly.”

“But you want to be, don’t you?” she says after a moment. 

Martin looks up and gives her a wide-eyed look. Is he really so obvious?

She waves it off with a little smile. “I dated him, remember? I’ve been where you are, more or less,” she tells him. “He is incredibly oblivious when it comes to other people’s feelings. I had to spell it out for him myself.”

He laughs a little. “Yeah, that- that sounds like him.”

“I don’t want you to feel ashamed or like you can’t talk to me about it, especially with him missing,” Georgie says seriously. “I just want you to have someone that you can talk to, alright? You’re a good person, Martin. You don’t deserve to have to go it alone.”

He gives her a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Georgie. Really.”

“Just come out to dinner with me sometime, yeah? I can never get someone to get Hungarian food with me so I’ve decided that you get to since you’re the one person I know that doesn’t hate it,” she tells him with a wide smile. 

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” he laughs.

The Admiral perks up from where he had been napping in Martin’s lap and a moment later the doorbell rings. Georgie stands and puts her mug on the coffee table. 

“That must be Melanie and Basira, I’ll let them in.”

She walks off towards the front door and the Admiral jumps down to follow her. 

Martin sits quietly as he listens to Georgie talk to Melanie and Basira, eventually letting them in and leading them to the living room. Melanie enters holding the Admiral, the cat purring happily in her arms. Basira holds a binder that she sets down on the table. 

“I’m going to go make some more tea and then we can get started,” Georgie tells them, already heading to the kitchen. 

“Martin,” Basira says with a slight nod. 

“Hi, Basira,” he replies, a little awkwardly. 

“Hey, Martin,” Melanie greets, sitting next to him on the couch. 

“Hi, Melanie,” he says, hoping the anxiousness doesn’t read on his face. 

The Admiral wanders from Melanie’s lap to his, looking at him expectantly. He scratches the cat behind the ears for his effort. The shaggy orange cat closes his eyes and starts purring.

Georgie returns shortly with some mugs and sets them down. Martin just clutches his own tightly and stares at the floor. 

Basira clears her throat and opens the binder. It is filled with what looks to be photocopied statements. “From what I can tell he was looking into cases that had to do with circuses and mannequins,” she starts while flipping through. “And things that steal people’s skin, I think.”

Martin nods. “Yeah, that’s what it looked like from the statements I found in our flat,” he says. “And Elias mentioned something about ‘the Stranger.’ I just wish I knew what that meant.”

“Well it seems like these things have groups, right?” Melanie asks. “Like, some of them have to do with, like, the dark and others are about dirt and being buried. Maybe the Stranger is a group that has to do with circuses and mannequins and stuff like that.”

“That’s a good theory actually,” Basira says, continuing to flip through the binder and squint at specific pages while circling specific bits with a pen. “Let’s try to gather as many statements about that sort of thing as we can and see if we can figure out anything about them and where they might have taken Jon. I’ll ask Daisy if she’s had any cases with things like this.”

“Yeah, I think I already know some statements we researched before you two got here,” Martin replies, already seeing them in his head. “I know where they’re stored, too, so I’ll grab them as soon as I can.”

“You still got nothing from your spooky marriage bond?” Melanie asks. 

Georgie snorts loudly into her tea but goes back to petting the Admiral when he turns to give her a look. 

“No, I’ve got nothing from that,” he tells her pointedly. 

She shrugs, unbothered. “I just don’t know what the point of a creepy marriage pact is if you don’t get some sort of weird magic bond from it or something.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, if something like that happens you’ll be the first to know.”

Basira snaps the binder shut and stands. “There’s nothing else I can do here, so I’m going to leave. Thanks for letting us use your living room,” she tells Georgie.

Georgie waves a hand at her. “It’s fine, I want to get Jon back, too, and I wouldn’t want you all to have to worry about your spooky boss breathing down your neck.”

“I’ll see you both on Monday,” she says and then she exits the room.

“You both don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” Georgie tells them as the front door shuts heavily behind Basira. “Actually, Melanie, if you don’t mind I was hoping you could help me with something for What the Ghost.”

Her eyebrows raise at that. “Of course, what is it that you need?”

“Well, it was about some research into somewhere you’ve been before so I figured that if I could get your take on it that would be helpful.”

“Did you want to record it or…” Melanie trails off, side-eyeing Martin.

“Yeah, I figured that we could, if you don’t mind being alone for a little while, that is, Martin,” Georgie says apologetically. “I could find another day to do it, if you’d like.”

“It’s fine, really,” he tells her with a thin smile. “I don’t want to get in the way of your job. I’ll just be here with the Admiral.”

He gestures to the cat who had crawled back into his lap and started headbutting his chin in an attempt to get pets. He starts scratching under the cat’s chin and he flops unceremoniously across Martin’s lap. 

She laughs a little and nods. “Alright, well we will be upstairs if you need us!” she says, already getting up and moving towards the stairs. Melanie follows suit, giving a half-hearted salute before disappearing.

Martin rubs at his eyes and sighs heavily. God, he’s tired. He hasn’t been sleeping well, what with the background anxiety and frustration he is feeling almost constantly these days. He is just so worried about Jon and wondering what could possibly be happening to him. Somehow Martin is positive that Jon is alive, but that says nothing about the possible state that the man is in. He just wishes he had some sort of sign that Jon is  _ okay _ .

In a flash his vision shifts. Suddenly he is staring out at what looks like a dark and dusty basement filled with… mannequins? Except, no, they don’t look quite like mannequins. They are… wax figures, maybe? Not the good ones like they have at Madame Tussaud’s, the ones they have at the really cheap tourist traps where you can only work out what the figure is supposed to be after reading the placard. 

Then his vision focuses on the center of the room where a very familiar figure is slumped in a chair. There is Jon, hair a mess, glasses askew, clothes unbelievably rumpled, but alive and relatively unharmed. It is so relieving that Martin spends a few minutes just looking at him. He is clearly breathing and his eyes are open, though they are unfocused in the way people often are when they are in the hospital with nothing to do but stare off into space and think.

The perspective is weird, like when he looked through the eyes of the spider in his old flat. Right, weird spider powers. Guess he owes Melanie an apology for being so dismissive of her earlier. Martin wishes that this power allowed him to actually talk to Jon, tell him that he was coming for him. He supposes seeing him and knowing that he is alright will have to do.

Just as he is thinking that Jon’s head snaps up, eyes reflecting the dim light in a way that is unnatural. He tilts his head to the side and looks directly at the spider Martin is looking through.

“Martin?” he asks in a voice that is rough with disuse.

That shocks Martin so much that it knocks him out of the vision. He blinks rapidly to adjust his vision to the much brighter living room and flexes his shoulders at the weird feeling of heat along the lines of the tattoo on his back. The Admiral is perched on his chest, looking up curiously at him. He gently takes the cat’s paws and places them in his lap instead of where they could potentially stab his chest. He strokes the cat’s back for good measure.

“I’m okay,” he tells the cat. “Just… adjusting. My life has been really weird lately, you know?”

The Admiral does not know, he just curls up in the corner of the couch to take a nap. Martin laughs, slightly hysterically. His life just keeps getting weirder and now he is telling a cat about it. Who knows? Maybe the cat can actually understand him? That would not be any weirder than anything that has happened to him recently. 

He sighs and stands, wiping stray cat hair off of his jeans. Well, he ought to go tell Georgie and Melanie about this development, see if they can use it to find Jon somehow. He doesn’t know what he will do if they can’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still love Georgie a whole lot and will continue to add her to the fics I write. I also didn't get to add the Admiral in the last fic which is a shame because I love cats and I love him specifically. So Martin gets to hang out with him because, honestly, he deserves it. Give Martin A Hug 2k19.  
> Come talk to me at pitchblackkoi on twitter or tumblr! I've heard from a few of you lately and you've been so nice, I really appreciate it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not as bad as the last one but there is some similar content. Jon gets moisturized again and there is some talk of skinning. If any of that bothers you, you can skip from "Nikola parts his shirt" to “I do wish we had something else." I will let you know anything you missed in the end notes.

Jon doesn’t know how long he has been here. There is no light down in this basement and any sort of schedule is irregular. Nikola and the other beings in her troupe come down at seemingly random intervals to feed him or moisturize him or just bother him. It is  _ awful  _ but there is not even anything he can actually  _ do  _ about it. Sure, he can compel people (beings?) to answer his questions now, but he hasn’t the slightest idea how that would get him out of this situation even if he  _ wasn’t _ gagged most of the time. The Eye is many things, but combative is not one of them. 

He has gotten some privileges for being “cooperative,” according to Nikola. His legs are no longer tied to the chair, they keep his hands zip tied instead of tying his chest to the chair, and they sometimes leave the gag out as long as he promises not to speak. It is not good or comfortable by any definition, though. Those taken by the Stranger are not human by any definition and do not realize how often a person needs to eat, so they do so infrequently and he spends most of his time hungry. He also spends a majority of his time just alone with his own thoughts, which is its own kind of torture.

Jon hates the helpless feeling that comes with all of this, but he has no way to get out of this. Unless Elias deigns to help him (doubtful) or his staff somehow finds  _ and  _ rescues him (even less likely), he is going to die here. It is that simple.

He feels bad for leaving Martin behind, though, even if it isn’t really his fault. They have become close since they were forcibly betrothed and it’s a closeness he treasures. It has been  _ years _ since Jon felt like he could depend on someone like this and in many ways he thought he never would again. It was nice while it lasted, he supposes. 

Though, maybe Martin  _ is _ looking for him. He felt Martin’s presence, somehow, when that spider was looking at him. And the tattoo had  _ burned _ in a way it hadn’t since it was first completed. It isn’t out of the question that the bond they had forged would give them linked abilities. 

Jon isn’t sure if the idea of Martin coming to get him is relieving or terrifying. Of course he wants to get out of here and he knows he cannot do it on his own, but even with the others, even with  _ Daisy _ , Martin would likely end up dead trying to rescue him. He doesn’t want more blood on his conscience, especially not Martin’s. 

He hears the door open and remembers that the only thing worse than being alone is when  _ they _ come to bother him. He watches as Nikola Orsinov comes down the stairs with two figures, one he recognizes by now as the entity who has taken over the mantle of Sarah Baldwin. That does not bode well as she has expressed a rather extreme distaste for the Archivist. 

“Hello, Archivist!” Nikola greets, as she always does. 

Jon gives a muffled groan against the gag. He hates having to play this game every… day? He still doesn’t know how long he has been down here or how frequently they come to visit him. Time is fuzzy when you have no frame of reference outside of one dark room. 

Sarah Baldwin and her companion go behind Jon to undo the zip ties, though Sarah presses the knife to his back a little in a move of intimidation. He tenses but does not do much more because she does this every time Nikola has her come down here. At this point it is less scary and more irritating. 

The two grip his arms and have him stand up, much more roughly than necessary but not enough to injure him. Jon has learned that they go through great lengths to not put any marks on his body, though it does not make the situation any less uncomfortable.

Nikola parts his shirt as she always does (though at this point it is getting very ratty and dirty) and runs a hand along his collarbone and makes a pleased sound. He flinches, trying not to do so obviously but the grin on Sarah’s face tells him that he didn’t succeed. 

“Your skin is progressing wonderfully, Archivist,” Nikola tells him. “We may be able to skin you sooner than I thought.”

And then she just begins rubbing the lotion into his skin as if she hadn’t just said a sentence that chilled him to the bone. It occurs to him suddenly that even if Martin and the others are looking for him, they may not find him in time. Maybe they will get here and Nikola will have already skinned him. Maybe when they get here someone will have stolen his face.

He is pulled out of his reverie by the sound of Nikola clucking a tongue she doesn’t have and looking down at his wrists, red marks circling both of them. 

“Have you been struggling in your bindings? We may have to get you something softer if you keep it up,” she says, warning in her tone. “A straight jacket may do. Keeps you all wrapped up and stops you from injuring yourself!”

Jon freezes and stares at the mannequin with wide eyes. Nikola just carries on with the lotion as she always does, methodically rubbing it in. He has gotten to the point where that part almost doesn’t bother him anymore. Never as much as the things she says, the cheerful way she describes her plans. Like the idea of being put into a straight jacket, for example, with even less control than he already has over his body. They would likely have to feed him at that point, which does not bode well both tactically and psychologically.

Before he knows it Nikola is all done and pulling his clothes back into order.

“I do wish we had something else to use right now so you won’t hurt yourself,” she tells him, sounding playfully disappointed as she watches Sarah Baldwin zip tie his wrists together. “I’ll be sure to have something the next time I see you. Goodbye, Archivist!”

Jon gives a gagged grumble in response and soon he is sat back in the chair and the group is back up the stairs and out of the room. And he is alone again. 

He sighs heavily through his nose and puts his heels on the edge of the chair so he can lean his head on his knees. This just means more time spent alone. He isn’t even tired, not really. Not tired enough that he could fall asleep, anyhow.

The longer he is here, the weaker he can feel his body get. He is always hungry, exhausted, and just this side of completely dehydrated. Not to mention the toll that just sitting in one place all day for however long he has been here does on his body. Sure, he is a mass of scars because of various interactions with the avatars of other Powers, but now he can feel the internal damage that being held in captivity is doing on his body. It is hell, both because of the discomfort and that every day like this means that trying to get out will become even harder. He doesn’t want to become complacent and just accept his fate, but that task becomes more difficult with each passing moment.

After a few minutes he feels that burning sensation coming from his tattoo again along with the strange anxiety filling up his chest. It’s enough to stir him into putting his feet flat on the floor and concentrate. 

Jon hears a voice coming from inside his head as the burning feeling gets worse.

_ Oh, God, I’m not going to be able to find him. I won’t find him and he’ll die all alone. I’m sorry, Jon. I’m so sorry. _

_ Martin?  _ he wonders.

The anxiousness turns into stark surprise.  _ Jon? _

_ Yes, it’s me,  _ he confirms.  _ How is this happening? _

_ I- I don’t know. I was just thinking about how we don’t really have a lot of leads to find you and I was really worried-  _ Martin begins rambling.

_ Yes, I think I felt that, _ Jon muses.  _ So you’ve been looking for me? _

_ Of course I have!  _ he replies, sounding affronted. Jon notices that he can feel that, too.  _ So have Basira and Melanie. And Daisy, too, sort of. We’ve mostly been going to Georgie’s and trying to put the pieces together. _

_ Wait, you’ve gotten Georgie into this?  _ he asks.

_ I wasn’t just going to not tell her you’d been kidnapped, Jon,  _ Martin tells him.  _ She wanted to help and I wasn’t going to say no to her.  _

_ No, I don’t suppose you would’ve,  _ he thinks, amused despite everything.  _ I wonder how much this bond connects us if we can communicate like this. _

_ I don’t really know,  _ he admits.  _ I think I’ve gotten some feelings from you as well? Mostly frustration and boredom. _

_ That does track,  _ Jon comments.

_ And I can do this thing with spiders? Where I can look through them?  _ he says, though it is almost a question.

_ So that  _ was  _ you the other day. Good to know, _ he thinks, nodding to himself.

_ Y-yeah, _ Martin says, sounding almost embarrassed.  _ You looked like you were in a basement filled with wax figures? _

_ That is exactly where I am,  _ Jon replies dryly.  _ It is about as awful as it sounds. _

He laughs nervously.  _ So you’re at some sort of waxworks museum? That narrows it down a lot.  _

There is a lull where Jon would think they had lost connection if not for the burning feeling across his back. He doesn’t want to lose connection, though, and desperately searches for something to say.

_ I’m really glad to hear from you,  _ he admits finally.

_ Me, too,  _ Martin confirms.  _ I was worried we would never be able to find you.  _

_ How long have I been gone?  _ he wonders.

_ Two weeks, _ is the reply that comes after a pause. Jon can feel the anxiousness and fear Martin is experiencing in his chest.

_ I hadn’t realized that it had been that long,  _ Jon replies.  _ Hard to tell days down here. _

The feelings begin to spike in something that he registers as a panic attack. He begins to panic himself, at a loss for what to do, when he calms himself. He needs to help Martin. Falling into hysteria will not help him. 

_ Martin, I need you to breathe for me, _ Jon urges him.  _ Take a deep breath for four seconds. Now hold it for seven. Then breathe out for eight. _

He feels Martin’s anxiety lessen just slightly and starts the process over. They do the exercise about four times before the panic seems to have lessened to a reasonable level.

_ Thank you, _ Martin tells him softly.

_ It isn’t a problem. I’m no stranger to panic attacks myself, _ Jon assures him.

_ I’m sorry that you had to comfort me. I mean, you’re the one who’s been kidnapped, _ he says, feeling ashamed.

_ It’s alright, Martin. I don’t think that it’s your fault,  _ he tells him. 

The heat across his shoulders begins to lessen and he feels the connection to Martin fading. Jon feels frozen. He doesn’t know how they started up this communication nor does he know how to access it again. He doesn’t want to be alone again.

_ I will find you, Jon. I promise.  _

That is the last thing he hears from Martin before that connection fades completely. He drops his head and curls his legs up onto the chair again. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jon can only hope that Martin will be able to get to him in time. For both of their sakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nikola says that his skin is progressing faster than she thought, meaning that the schedule for the Unknowing may be pushed up. She also notes that his wrists seem red from the zip ties and suggests they may need to use a straight jacket to stop him from damaging his skin. (You may notice her concerns are very skin-based.)  
> I am actually kinda excited to see any reactions to this chapter, just because I had tossed around the telepathy thing on top of the empathic link for a while before deciding it gave me some exciting opportunities for character interaction. I would like to know what you all think though!  
> Come talk to me either in the comments or at pitchblackkoi on twitter and tumblr. I really do like to hear from you all.


	5. Chapter 5

Martin sits quietly at Georgie’s kitchen table as everyone around him argues logistics. He is clutching a mug of tea so hard that his knuckles are white. He feels like he can feel every single breath he takes reverberating through him. 

It’s been… hard since he figured out exactly how bad of a situation Jon is in. He mostly gets feelings and conscious thoughts from Jon but there are some unsettling things that have been transferred as well. Jon insists it isn’t all that bad, but it isn’t effective when Martin can feel how hungry and thirsty and miserable the man is. 

They talk occasionally, but neither really has a grip on how to intentionally connect their minds so it happens at random. Martin can more consciously control using spiders to see Jon and uses that to ensure that he’s still alive, though something tells him that were Jon to actually die he would  _ know _ .

It has been three weeks. Jon has been gone for three whole weeks and Martin feels nothing but guilty about not being able to actually do anything about it. 

Georgie puts a light hand on his arm and jerks him out of his reverie. She gives him a questioning look. He just shakes his head and tunes back into the conversation. 

Basira is writing in a notebooks and Melanie clicks furiously on the laptop in front of her. 

“I’ve actually been to the House of Wax,” Melanie offers. Basira raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, the Ghost Hunt UK crew was all out in Yarmouth and we decided to check it out because it seemed suitably creepy.” She squints at the laptop. “Probably hasn’t gotten any less creepy since it’s been shut down and taken over by spooky mannequins.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Basira says dryly. “So what I’m hearing is that we don’t really have a plan outside of ‘break in and hope for the best?’”

Martin shrugs apologetically. “My weird powers only let me talk to Jon, they don’t really extend to fighting.”

Basira rubs her face tiredly. “Of course it doesn’t. Okay. If we distract them and put up enough of a fight you could find him, couldn’t you?”

Finally, a question he has a decisive answer to. “Yes. If you all give me enough time to sneak past I’ll be able to find him easily,” he tells her. 

Basira nods, looking at her notes. “We’ll definitely need Daisy for this, she’s the one who’s successfully killed things like this. We’ll have to see if we can get Tim in on this, too. We need everyone we can get.”

“I can probably catch him one of these days,” Melanie says. Martin gives her a questioning look and she shrugs. “He likes having someone to bitch with so we talk sometimes.”

“I guess I’ll just try to get more information then?” Martin questions. 

“The more information we can get about what’s in there, the better,” Basira confirms. “You’re the only one of us that has access to anything like that, so we’ll be depending on you.”

Martin grips his knees under the table and nods stiffly. “Right.”

Georgie puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Just keep doing what you’ve been doing, Martin. It’ll be okay. We’ll get him back.” She says it with a confidence that he absolutely does not have. Then again, Jon mentioned something about her literally not being able to feel fear so maybe he will take that with a grain of salt. 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” he tells her decisively. She raises an eyebrow at him so he amends. “I’ll be able to do what I have to. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course not. I don’t  _ have  _ to do anything. But I’ll worry about you anyways, so you’ll just have to suck it up,” Georgie says, her face daring him to challenge her. 

Martin nods, at a loss of what else to do. 

There’s a tense silence at the table until Basira shuts her notebook and stands. “I’m going to head out. Let me know if you learn anything else.”

“I’ll come with you, I need to get going anyways,” Melanie says, shooting to her feet and stowing away the laptop. 

The next few minutes are filled with shuffling around to gather things together and leave. Martin raises one hand in a silent goodbye, returned with a small wave from Melanie and a nod from Basira. Georgie follows them out of the kitchen and walks them to the door. 

When she returns she puts her hands on her hips and heaves a sigh. “Well, that was eventful.”

“Yeah,” Martin replies despondently. 

Georgie’s eyebrows come together and she frowns at him. She seems to make a decision and walks over to him to draw him into a fierce hug. For what it’s worth, she gives great hugs. She’s smaller than him, but still encompassing and warm. He leans a head on her shoulder and squeezes back. 

“We can do this,” she promises him. “We  _ will  _ get him back.”

“I know,” Martin says, voice shaky. “I’m just… scared. For me. For him.”

“I know,” Georgie says softly. 

“I love him,” he admits. 

“I know,” she says, even softer. 

***

When Martin finally gets home that night he collapses onto the couch. He sprawls across it, for once using his size to take up as much space as he can. Maybe if he does that the flat won’t feel so empty. 

He’s tired of feeling this way, to be honest. Tired of the fear and the anxiety and the exhaustion. He is especially tired of the looks it grants him, as if his concern gets in the way or that he isn’t of use like this. He may be of one mind right now, but that only means he will do whatever it takes to get Jon home. 

He’s staring at the ceiling blankly, trying to convince himself to get up and continue with his evening, when he feels the tattoo on his back begin to burn. He sits up straight and wills the connection to strengthen. 

The feelings begin to seep in, Jon’s exhaustion and discomfort, and Martin is relieved. He hates that Jon is feeling this way, but it is a weight off of his shoulders every time he can feel that he is still alive. This connection may have been forced upon them but he is grateful for some parts of it.

_ Martin, are you there? _ comes Jon’s voice.

He lets out a breath and smiles. Sometimes the feelings seep in but Martin can’t hear Jon in his head, so actually hearing him is an added balm to his constant worry.

_ Yeah, I can hear you _ , he replies.

_ Good, that’s good. _ He can feel Jon’s relief wash over him, the small comfort of hearing from someone you care about. 

_ It’s been a few days _ , Martin notes.  _ I’ve tried to check in on you but it isn’t the same as hearing from you. _

_I’ll say_ , he replies dryly. _I did feel you check in though._ _It’s… comforting. Knowing that you’re watching out for me._

Martin feels his face flush. When he and Jon talk like this it’s like both of their barriers have fallen away. He isn’t sure if it is because Jon is so tired from captivity or the inherent intimacy that comes with hearing someone’s voice in your head. Either way, their talks usually have them saying things they probably wouldn’t otherwise. 

_ I, uh, saw that she made good on her promise of the straight jacket, _ he says.

Jon’s mood darkens.  _ Yes, she seems to believe that it will keep me ‘safer.’ As if her minions haven’t tried to take a piece out of me already. _

_ I’m sorry _ , Martin tells him meekly.

_ It isn’t your fault _ , he says, tone brooking no argument.  _ I know you are all doing your best to try and get me out of here. I would rather you all took the time to do it  _ safely _. _

_ I know _ , he replies, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling.  _ I just… I can’t help but feel bad that we can’t get you out sooner.  _

_ I’m just grateful that you are willing to come and get me at all, _ Jon tells him.

_ Of course I am! _ Martin exclaims.  _ You have to know that I wouldn’t just- _

_ I know that, Martin, _ Jon says firmly.  _ But the fact of the matter is that most people would. And I wouldn’t really blame them; getting me out would be, _ will be _ , dangerous. _

They are both silent for a good while, stewing in their combined emotions. Martin is frustrated, tired, and hopelessly in love. Jon is also frustrated and tired, as he always is, with something under the surface that feels almost like fondness, but  _ more  _ somehow. Jon’s emotions both do not fit in his chest and have a place where they sit perfectly. It used to be a jarring sensation but not it is a connection that he cherishes.

_ You have to know that leaving you there was never an option for me. Not for a moment,  _ Martin says after a while.

_ I know, _ Jon replies, and Martin can almost feel his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very hefty or plot intensive chapter, I know, but an important transitional chapter, I think.  
> You can find me at pitchblackkoi on tumblr and twitter.


	6. Chapter 6

Jon is stuck in the basement, stuck in a chair, and he can’t quite hear the commotion from upstairs but he knows that there is a commotion. He Knows. He doesn’t know why he is so sure. Is it just a phantom feeling from the anticipation of knowing that Martin has said they are headed to get him in the next few days? Is it from his bond with Martin? Is it to do with being the Archivist? He can’t place it, but he knows that they are here.

Of course, knowing that everyone has arrived to come and get him does not make him any less nervous. Any number of things could go wrong. They could have underestimated the amount of monsters in the building and get overwhelmed. The weapons they brought could be ineffective against things that are so inhuman that they don’t feel pain. Martin could get seperated and caught, leaving him to be killed by himself. There are just so many variables, so many things that could go wrong.

That last thought is the one that bugs him the most, though. The idea that Martin could die trying to rescue him is heartbreaking in a way he does not quite understand. His first thought is that it is guilt. And sure, the idea that someone would die because of him ( _ for him _ , a voice in his head whispers) makes him feel guilty, but that isn’t it. He would feel that about any of the team dying while coming to his rescue. It is something about Martin specifically, how he makes Jon feel, but what-

It hits him like a truck. He is in love with Martin. Of course he is. When he hears from Martin, there’s that warmth in his chest that is not only relief. When he senses Martin checking in on him through the spiders, what he feels is not just the security of knowing someone is looking for him. It is even there in the way thinking of Martin while stuck by himself keeps him present and comforted. It has been there the whole time. He is in love with-

A yellow door appears out of the corner of his eye and creaks slowly open, followed by spiralling laughter. He supposes there’s another scenario he had not taken into account: he could be killed before they could even get to him.

Michael steps into view, a wide grin splitting across his face. He looms over Jon and he has never felt the restriction of both the gag and the straight jacket more than he does in this moment.

Jon quickly squares his expression away from panic and into one of frustration and anger.

“Oh, Archivist,” Michael says, his voice every bit as headache inducing as it always is. “It’s almost sad to see you like this.”

He glares harder and growls at the monster through the gag. He doesn’t know what game the creature is playing at, but he is sure he doesn’t want to play.

“Almost,” he continues, grin stretching impossibly wider. “I have come to a decision, Archivist. I am going to kill you.”

The fear licks up Jon’s spine, but he does not let it show on his face. If Michael wants to kill him that’s… well it isn’t  _ fine _ , but there isn’t anything he can do about it in this state.

“I wanted to wait a bit longer but, well, circumstances have changed haven’t they?” he tells Jon, as if they are having a conversation and he is not just being monologued at. “Before I do, however, I want you to understand, even if it does go against my nature.”

Michael reaches down with his claw-like fingers and removes the gag from Jon’s mouth. He takes a deep breath and stretches his jaw. 

“Ask your questions,” Michael says coldly.

So he does. Jon can’t help it, he’s always been full of questions, ready to bubble over at any moment. It is one of the reasons his grandmother always threw books at him, she hoped he would find the answers in the books and stop bothering her. Now that he is the Archivist, it is almost second nature to come up with a million questions to ask. 

And Michael answers them, giving more information than he has ever gotten from Elias, though still all wrapped up in riddles. He had known that Gertrude was not the most morally sound person, of course, but what she did to poor Michael Shelley is awful. He was her assistant. He  _ trusted  _ her. And she used him. It’s no wonder Michael wants revenge, even if he is taking it out on the wrong person.

“Is there anything I can do to stop you from killing me?” Jon asks in a shaky voice. 

All things considered, he would rather not die. Especially after having just realized he is in love with his husband, who he is fairly certain reciprocates those feelings. That or he is using his empathy link with Martin to project his feelings onto him a  _ lot _ .

Michael laughs. “I suppose if you scream loud enough the circus may hear you, but I promise that you will die more pleasantly with me than with them.”

He nods quietly. There is nothing more to stall with and no option open to him that would be better. This is it. He only wishes he could have told Martin-

The door at the top of the stairs slams open with an audible bang. Martin stands there, chest heaving and covered in sweat and what he thinks may be flecks of blood. He scans the room and his eyes land on Jon, still seated in the center of the room. His face brightens.

“Jon!” he shouts from the top of the stairs and God, it is such a relief to hear Martin’s voice from outside of his own head.

“Martin,” Jon says, the smallest of smiles twitching at the corners of his lips. 

Then Martin takes in Michael, standing in front of Jon and freezes. Right, Martin mentioned that Michael had taken him and Tim hostage while Jon was busy running from Not Sasha. He must be terrified.

“Come to save your Archivist, Weaver?” Michael taunts. “I’m afraid you’re too late, he’s all mine!”

That makes something flicker behind Martin’s eyes and it causes his entire person to shift somehow. Physically, yes, he goes stiff, squares his shoulders, and  _ glares _ . But that isn’t what gets Jon. What gets him is the shift  _ within  _ Martin. His presence, his aura, shifts and suddenly he feels more like one of the Web than he ever has. What shocks Jon the most, though, is that it doesn’t scare him.

Martin storms down the stairs with a fire in him that Jon has never seen. He steps right up to Michael and stares up at him.

“No,” he says, firmly but with  _ power _ . Then he sticks out his right hand and pulls it back like he is tugging on something. 

Michael screams. He screams and it is ear splitting and migraine inducing. At the same time his form is shifting in a way that is utterly incomprehensible and hurts to look at. Jon squeezes his eyes shut and waits for it to be over.

When it is he looks up to see-

“Helen?” he asks. “Helen Richardson? But- but Michael-”

“Michael isn’t me,” the figure in front of him says. “Not anymore.”

Jon is still trying to piece it together when he spots Martin standing behind her, staring wide-eyed at his own hands.

“Martin?” he asks tentatively.

“I- I don’t,” Martin stammers, looking up at Jon with a horrified expression. “I don’t know how I did that.”

“We can figure that out later,” Jon promises, then looks to Helen. “Unless you’re still keen to kill me?”

She thinks for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. That was Michael’s desire, not mine. Helen rather liked you, as well, so there is a lot to consider.”

“That’s good enough for now,” he decides. “Martin, will you help me out of this?” He indicates the straight jacket he’s still trapped in. 

“Of course!”

He rushes to help Jon out of the straight jacket. It takes a while, as well as a lot of awkward maneuvering, but they manage to get him out. Jon stretches out his arms and hands gratefully. Then he pulls Martin into a hug.

“Thank you so much for coming to get me,” Jon tells him, his face in Martin’s neck.

Martin hugs back with just as much ferocity. “Of course. I would never,  _ ever  _ leave you.”

Jon pulls back just far enough to look him in the eye. “I love you, Martin. I need you to know that, in case anything else happens.”

Martin’s face goes through a number of microexpressions (shock, disbelief, joy) before he says “Jon, you idiot,” and kisses him. It takes him a moment but once his brain catches up, Jon kisses him back. Martin’s hands are on his lower back and Jon has slung his arms around Martin’s neck and they have this moment that is just for them. 

They part for breath, foreheads pressed together, and they hear a voice coming from behind them.

“Would you like me to take you home?” Helen asks.

The pair spins around with wide eyes and Helen is just standing there. Like she never left, which Jon supposes she didn’t. 

She gestures towards the door. “I would be able to take you both home, if you’d like.”

“How do we know you’ll lead us home and not just trap us in there?” Martin questions, one of his hands sitting protectively on Jon’s shoulder. 

“I’ve already said that I don’t have any interest in killing the Archivist. That extends to you, Weaver,” Helen tells him, head tilted to the side in confusion.

“I think they mean it, Martin,” Jon says. “Though I wouldn’t want to leave the others behind with no exit plan-”

“No, they have an exit plan for if I don’t come back. I can just message Basira that we have our own way back and that we’ll see them in London if we have to,” he explains, seeming to have accepted that this is the way Jon wants to do things. It makes Jon smile slightly.

Jon breathes in deeply and lets it out. “Alright, then. Take us home.”

Helen gestures for them to follow her and Jon grips Martin’s hand in his own. He looks up at the man, who smiles at him softly and nods. They’ll do this. They’ll do it together.

They step into the corridors.

***

The corridors are not navigable to a normal person, but Helen was made for them and guides the pair through flawlessly before gesturing to a door and saying that it will take them home. Neither of them are sure whether they are surprised or not when they open the door into their flat. Jon turns around to thank Helen, but the door is gone. Maybe someday he’ll get to thank her, but now that isn’t his first priority.

A look at Martin shows that he has pulled his phone out and is texting furiously. Jon takes a moment to enjoy the novelty of being able to look at Martin. He hasn’t been able to in a month and, if he is being honest with himself, he missed it. He looks worse for wear, sure, but it is still  _ Martin _ . Martin, who has been trying to find him since he went missing. Martin, who faced incomprehensible monsters to get him back. Martin, who he is inexplicably married to.

Martin puts his phone in his pocket and looks up to see Jon watching him and smiles. “Told everyone I had gotten you back safely,” he explains.

Jon nods, smiling back. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want them to worry overmuch.” 

“You should probably head to bed, you must be exhausted,” he says. “I washed the sheets before I left, so everything is clean.”

“Thank you. For everything.” He won’t stop saying it for weeks, probably, but it needs to be said.

“I would do it again,” Martin tells him seriously.

That widens Jon’s smile. “I know.”

They both stand there for a while, drinking in each others’ presence. It is a novelty, after the past month, to even see each other and Jon wants to take advantage of it as much as he can. Actually, that gives him an idea… 

“I had a thought and you can say no if you’d like,” Jon starts. “I, uh, I don’t particularly want to be alone tonight, so I wondered if you wouldn’t mind sleeping in my bed with me.”

Martin looks confused and then breaks out into a smile. “Of course I will, Jon.”

They don’t really do much in the way of getting ready for bed as they are both far too exhausted for evening rituals. They turn off the lights in the flat, strip down to their pants, and crawl under the covers. Martin curls around Jon, his body warm and safe against his back. The last thing Jon remembers before falling asleep is the feeling of Martin’s arms around him and the soft pressure of a kiss on the cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I really enjoyed writing it. This is a really fun universe to play around with, so there may be a third part. If there is, though, it will be a while off because I've joined the Rusty Quill Big Bang and need to devote my writing time to that. I must say, though, that this fandom has been really lovely when it comes to feedback, which has really helped so thank you to everyone who has commented, kudosed, and bookmarked this fic. It means a lot.  
> In the meantime any updates can be found at pitchblackkoi on tumblr or twitter.


End file.
